Of course, I didn't actually leave the hospital until almost five, and they left me hanging for about eight hours. The floor doctor and my surgeon had both been in before nine and had said I could go. The floor doctor eventually said to have someone come get me at ten. I organised for Kirsti's folks to come get me, and they were aiming for eleven. While they were on their way, someone changed their mind and decided I should also wait to see my normal electrophysiologist, who I knew would say "that looks good, come see me in a month."
So we waited.
And we waited.
And I slept.
And I hassled nurses.
And we waited some more.
And I slept some more.
Finally I got jack of waiting and rang my doctor's PA and asked if he was coming, on account of my friend having been waiting for five hours. She said he'd been in surgery all day but that she'd call and find out for me.
Less than five minutes later the nurse came in meekly and said I could go. Coincidence? I think not!
Kirsti's mum had given up circling the block four and a half hours before, so we called her dad to get us and he even did a Maccas run on the way home. Legend.
And look! I wore pants yesterday for the first time in almost three weeks! And they still fit, despite all that sitting around on my arse I did in hospital!
So now I'm back at mum's and we're trying not to drive each other crazy. Something of an anticlimax, really.
The sad part is that either I'm a lot less sick or she's a lot more frail than last time, but I don't think she's really looking after me anymore. I guess that's the price you pay for independence - nobody nurses you anymore. I know 31 is kind of old to have that realisation or to want babying, but man, getting older can really suck! I guess it's better to age and lose people babying you than never having the chance to age, though...